


Sugar Sugar

by MistressOfMalplaquet



Category: Riverdale (TV 2017)
Genre: F/M, First Kiss, just kids exploring nature
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-30
Updated: 2019-05-30
Packaged: 2020-03-29 14:29:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,035
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19021825
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MistressOfMalplaquet/pseuds/MistressOfMalplaquet
Summary: What happened in the treehouse.





	Sugar Sugar

It’s the first real day of summer vacation after a long and grinding fifth-grade year. Betty tumbles into the treehouse where Jughead lies on an old beanbag, reading comics with a soda bottle in one hand.

“Hey.” Her strident voice interrupts the violent adventures of Captain Fierce and His Pirate Ship. “Did you know Archie kissed a girl today?”

“Huh?” Jughead flips down the top of his comic book and frowns at her. “Ew. Why would he do that?”

“Exactly. Why? And,” Betty pauses dramatically, “it was on the lips and everything. And long! At least a minute!”

With an uncomfortable struggle, Jughead wrestles out of the cushion’s embrace. “Wait. Were you standing there the whole time? Because, awkward.”

“Sitting.” As if to illustrate, Betty collapses on the beanbag beside him. “It was a spin-the-bottle thing at Reggie’s birthday party. Archie got Sabrina. They kissed and wouldn’t stop, even though everyone was hollering at them.”

“Oh.” Jughead’s about to resume Captain Fierce’s maritime wars when a thought strikes him. “Did you kiss anyone at this little soiree?”

“Ew.” Betty gives him a look of such horror that he’s infected by a sudden gust of giggles, which make her laugh. “You snorted.”

“Did not.”

“Did too.”

Jughead leafs back to the start of the comic. “Here, wanna read Captain Fierce with me? It’s a good issue. He finds the map to…”

“Lalalalala! Don’t tell me! I want to see for myself.” Betty leans her chin on his shoulder, and in companionable silence they read the comic. She’s the only person who can share a book and make it easy. Archie is far too slow a reader, and Jellybean always has a gafrillion questions. Betty seems to follow his pace page for page, sometimes pointing out hidden clues to Fierce’s piratical mysteries in the panels.

There’s the inevitable encounter with a Lady on the fifth page. Captain Fierce calls her a wench and slaps her in irons before she saves the ship with her quick wits. The next few pages show side glances, a quick brush of hands, and one final, desperate kiss.

“Sheesh!” Betty jumps up from the beanbag. “What is this, kissy day? Liplock week? Everywhere you look, smooches galore. And why? Why do people feel the need to smoosh their faces together? Isn’t it hard to breathe that way?”

“Don’t know.” Jughead has just remembered that he has one last piece of gum. He unwraps it and is about to pop the minty rectangle into his mouth when he recalls his manners. “Want half?”

“Sure.”

He hands over most of the gum. In silence they chew the unsatisfactory sweets, not even enough to blow a decent bubble. “Thanks,” Betty adds. “You know, for sharing your last piece and all that.”

“Only for you,” Jughead says grandly. He can’t help adding, “Wench.”

With a cry of _You take that back right now,_ Betty pummels him and gets him onto his back on the beanbag. She knows his ticklish spots: one tender left side, pure torture under his armpits. At last, both winded, they lie half on top of each other in the large pillow. Betty’s breath is mint against his cheek, fresh and pure as a daisy. Not that he would ever tell her so.

“Did you ever wonder what all the fuss was about?” she muses.

“What fuss?”

“The kissing thing. Everyone talks about it, at least today they have. Archie, Captain Fierce… There has to be something to it. Maybe it’s even better than gum.”

“Can’t be.” Jughead feels his heart do a unexpected leap in his chest, and he squirms. “Say, maybe I should…”

“Try it,” Betty finishes for him. “Maybe we should try it.”

“What, now?” Jughead is appalled. “Here? You and me? _Why?”_

“Well, why not? If we don’t, then there’s a slight chance that my first kiss will be Reggie, and that would be tragic.”

“Okay, I guess, but I think you’re being a bit…”

Jughead’s snark is cut off. Betty’s lashes flutter, and she leans in. Her lips are warm, and he can’t help humming with surprise. Before he can respond, she’s backed away, eyes intent on his. The kiss is over before it ever really began.

And, in that tiny moment, everything changes. They’re in the old treehouse, wearing the same clothes they always wear: sweaters, S t-shirt, crown beanie. Betty’s ponytail flops over one shoulder, and there’s a slight smudge of ink on one cheekbone. But Jughead knows that now, nothing will ever be the same.

“You saved me from Reggie,” she laughs. “Such a good sport.”

“Thanks,” Jughead gasps. It seems his brain has deserted him, leaving nothing but echoing, foolish space inside his skull, and with horror he realizes that the only thing he wants to do is kiss some more. He wants her mint breath mingling with his, feel the softness of her mouth again, the moth-like brush of Betty’s lashes against his skin. “Say, uh, Betts. You, like, you wanna…”

“Do I wanna…” Her grin is wide and beautiful under the golden freckles brought on by June sunshine. “Do I wanna go swimming? To the movies? Bowling? Yes to all of those.”

He opens his mouth, but they’re interrupted by a loud cry from the Cooper house. “Betty, come here this instant! You have to clean your room and vacuum the foyer and do the dishes!”

“Oops.” Betty flaps one hand in his direction and prepares to descend the treehouse ropeladder. “Guess I have to go. Call me later?”

Without waiting for an answer, she disappears. Jughead scrambles across the floor, sticks his head out of the window and yells, “Okay! I’ll call you! Call you later, Cooper!”

That evening he gets into trouble for being late and ripping the seat of his pants. Gladys sends him to bed without dessert, but for once he doesn’t complain.

There, in the soft dark of an early summer night, Jughead laces his fingers behind his head and stares up at the ceiling. “I’m the first,” he tells the water stain that vaguely resembles a fat guinea pig. “The first one she kissed. And you know what? Somehow, someday, I’m going to kiss her again.”


End file.
